


A Game of Secrets

by AstroGold



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adventure, Christmas Party, Fluff, Holosuites, Little bit of hurt/comfort, M/M, References to "A Stitch In Time", Romance, Secret Santa, Secrets, Star Trek Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGold/pseuds/AstroGold
Summary: It's a universal truth: Secret Santa gifts can getreallyelaborate. For Star Trek Secret Santa 2019
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76
Collections: Star Trek Secret Santa 2019





	A Game of Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Band_obsessed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band_obsessed/gifts).



> Merry Christmas/Trekmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! This story is for bashir-one-alpha on Tumblr for Star Trek Secret Santa, and I hope she enjoys this story!
> 
> Just a heads-up that this fic contains a handful of references to Andrew Robinson's book, _A Stitch In Time_ , though it's not necessary to have read it to understand this story. (I do recommend it though!)

_Santa_. Just what in Tain's name was a _Santa_?

This was the question Garak had been asking himself for the past two weeks to no avail. Even despite the good doctor's attempts to explain the ancient Earth tradition and that it was all just folklore, the notion of a bearded man breaking into someone's house to leave gifts and eat their sweets was a little beyond ridiculous in his mind. And yet somehow said doctor had convinced him to participate in an event, a _game_ , centered around "jolly ol' Saint Nick."

Secret Santa.

Julian had known exactly what he was doing when he coaxed him into joining, judging by the wide impish grin he wore as soon as they sat down for lunch on that fateful day.

 _"So it's a game of_ secrets _, then?"_

That's all it took. Well, that, and the doctor's invitation out to lunch to begin with. What with the onset of the Dominion War and Julian's recent inclination to spend more time with Chief O'Brien, it had been quite some time since they'd dined together, and Garak had certainly missed his charms and all the games that came with him.

There was no room for doubt now that living on the station amongst the Federation and Bajorans had made him soft, dulled his wits. But with no one else around to really care but him, Garak decided to go all in.

According to Julian, virtually all of the senior staff and their respective departments along with station residents, like shop owners from the Promenade, were playing, which provided a wide field to go undercover in. At the end of two weeks, everyone would exchange their gifts (which were known to get rather elaborate at times) and reveal themselves to their assigned partner, and then they would all go to a holiday party at Vic Fontaine's. Garak wasn't particularly looking forward to that last part, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it.

In the meantime, his focus had been on what to gift to one Ferengi bar owner.

Surprisingly, Garak had been rather pleased when he pulled Quark's name out of the replicated "Santa hat" that Captain Sisko had brought around to everybody participating. While he was no secret agent, Quark knew how to keep an eye on his establishment and himself–– _most_ of the time––and would thus prove to be enough of a challenge to keep Garak entertained during this game.

And that he did.

It took a couple of nights, but eventually Garak found just the right tidbit of info within Quark's personal files, way after the bar had closed up for the evening. According to his schedule, Quark would be going on a trip with one of the dabo girls a few days after the Secret Santa party.

It seemed like the perfect opportunity for a new custom-tailored suit, and a complementary dress to gift to the lovely lady. And all at Quark's favorite price: free.

 _A trip_ , Garak thought to himself aimlessly as he backtracked out of Quark's files amid the silence of the bar. Now there was something he wouldn't mind going on with Dr. Bashir...

Even though he got out of the system seamlessly, a hand still clamped down on Garak's shoulder as he turned to leave the bar as he found it, shaking him from his would-be fantasy.

"Ah, Mr. Garak! I'm surprised to see you here at this hour," Odo chirped in a tone normally reserved for his suspects. "I know you're a man of suspicious activities, but surely I would think that you could wait until the bar opens for a glass of kanar."

Garak deflected the accusation with one of his signature smiles, knowing that the good constable would appreciate what he was about to tell him. Odo was a man he respected, and while any lies he gave him were usually a ruse to rile him up, to keep him guessing, Garak found that, in this case, he would get a bigger kick out of knowing the truth of his late-night operation. That, and he knew Odo was also participating in the Secret Santa, and even more importantly, he could keep a secret.

Pulling Odo in with an arm around his shoulder, Garak led the way out of the bar and asked him, "Constable, would you like to play a game?"

* * *

Odo had definitely gotten his worth out of helping to keep Garak's partner a secret.

The next day, right before lunch, Garak caught sight of Odo standing haughtily at the corner of the bar, pretending to play innocent as Quark insisted, "There's someone after me, Odo! They broke into my database last night!"

By the way he was grinning, Garak might as well have gotten Odo as his giftee.

Alas, that happiness quickly waned as the tailor soon found that Julian was nowhere to be found at the Replimat, or any of the other nearby eateries. And just as he was starting to think that perhaps their usual daily lunches would resume on a more regular basis...

Yet, to his surprise as he walked back to his shop, readying himself to work on his Secret Santa gift, he found his friend leaving Quark's alongside the Chief, waving to the bartender over his shoulder. Garak simply provided a polite smile as Julian caught his eye, refusing to let him see the sting of betrayal lurking beneath his mask.

It was silly, he knew, to feel jealous of the doctor's social circle, especially as an agent trained to not let personal feelings get in the way of his task, his life. But the invitation to this Secret Santa game had seemed like a...a promise of something more to come between him and Julian. Like the doctor himself _wanted_ there to be something more. After all, surely he, too, had seen that there was more to their relationship than just a friendly face with whom to share lunch and a debate?

Despite these musings, Garak couldn't deny that his heart skipped a beat when Julian bid Chief O'Brien farewell and caught up with him en route to his shop. Nor could he deny it happening again when Julian asked if he wanted the two of them to arrive at the holiday party at Vic's together.

They both knew of the tailor's feelings towards Vic's _insipid_ music, and so obviously this was a test by Julian to see if he would be going at all. With that motivation in mind, Garak couldn't help but agree to it all––to going to the party, and to going with _him_.

"Perfect! Then I shall see you then!" Julian enthused with a good-natured shake of his shoulder, on the edge of preparing to return to work.

"Wait! Doctor..." Garak began to call out to him. Part of him felt like he should keep his mouth shut, and yet... "What about lunch tomorrow?"

Julian stopped and studied him carefully, before giving him one of his boyish grins. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

Julian didn't miss their lunch, or any of their lunches up until the day of the party.

Garak wouldn't say he felt heartbroken––after all, he was going to see the doctor in just a few hours. But the sudden break in streak felt a little bit like rain on his parade. After all, even he couldn't deny the festive spirit that had overtaken the station that day, even if the notion of Santa still baffled him. He was eager to revel in that spirit with Julian.

Nevertheless, he managed to find a silver lining in the rain clouds: he could deliver his Secret Santa gift to Quark during his lunch hour and finally reveal one of his secrets.

Yet just as soon as Garak had gathered the two bundles of clothing under his arm and was making for the exit, the man in question strolled through his doors.

"Ah, Quark! Just the Ferengi I wanted to see," Garak greeted, not giving away any hints just yet that the packages in hand were for him.

"And you're just the Cardassian I wanted to see," Quark returned, leveling him with an easy, salesman smile. His hands were held behind his back, and for a moment, Garak was convinced that they had pulled each other's names from Sisko's hat.

Truth be told, Garak had tried not to give much thought as to who his Secret Santa partner could be.

For one thing, if he _had_ tried, he would surely have found out who it was, given his skills, and Julian had said that half the fun of the game was not knowing who was making his gift. It was a fair point, one that had been used to keep the man in front of him in the dark.

More than that though, a large part of Garak was none too eager to find out who his Secret Santa was. After all, he was a Cardassian, and even without the ongoing war that his people had helped to wage against the entire quadrant, he had enemies aplenty aboard the station––Bajorans (Kira especially), Odo's list of unsolved crimes, various unsatisfied customers of his clothier shop, Worf... Even the Ferengi who stood before him would likely consider him an enemy, if not as a businessman then definitely as one of those unsatisfied customers.

But it couldn't be Quark. It _wasn't_ Quark, Garak realized, unsure if he was happy about that. All in all, he could live with it being Quark, especially with his current smile, but he knew it wasn't. He'd seen his giftee by chance when searching through his database––he'd pulled Major Kira's name. At least Garak knew his match-up wasn't the only one to worry about.

Garak shook himself out of his speculation and matched Quark's smile with one of his own, taking the initiative. "This is for you," he said, holding out the bundle with Quark's suit, followed by his date's dress. "And _this_ is for you to give to M'Pella on your trip. As our human friends would say, 'Merry Christmas.' I am your Secret Santa."

This brought a hint of fluster to Quark's face as he took the packages with one hand, trying to balance them. "Aw, Garak! How very kind, and _generous_ , of you! Though, how did you know I'm going on a trip?" Before he could get an answer, he waved him off. "You know what, never mind. I need to get back to the bar for the lunch rush. Thank you, and _this_ is for you." Quark finally brought out his other hand from behind his back, handing him a box wrapped in overly-shiny green-and-red paper.

Garak carefully took the gift, still unsure of if his Secret Santa would use the opportunity to pull some prank or seek revenge against him, for whatever reason they may have had in mind. Nevertheless, he began to unwrap it.

As Quark took to peeking inside at his gifts, giving a low whistle at the detailed stitching, he added, "I'm not your Secret Santa, obviously, but I was told to wish you a merry Christmas and that you should read the card inside."

Nodding along absentmindedly as Quark bid him farewell and left his shop, Garak finally opened the box to find...a pair of socks. Well, if it was from an enemy, they had certainly thrown him off-track.

The socks were interesting in their own right. Blue-and-silver slanted stripes, with trimmings of sparkling golden thread dotted with tiny snowflakes. Elegant, and appropriate for the holiday, so it seemed. But baffling indeed.

He finally picked up the card laying underneath––its cover adorned with some animal with stems coming out of its head and a lighted red nose, surrounded by more tiny snowflakes––and read the typed-up inscription inside:

> _For tonight._
> 
> _Proceed to Dax._

Garak's heart immediately began to race out of a sense of thrill and adrenaline.

The card's message was short and sweet, and a very clear sign that his Secret Santa had done their research on him. They were giving him more than just socks, that was certain.

They'd given him a mystery, a hunt to go on. A game to play.

Even if it was just a simple game for some silly human tradition, Garak was definitely invested now.

* * *

Jadzia, much like Quark before her, was all smiles when Garak found her in Ops at her station.

By this point, he had surmised that he could eliminate whomever the hunt led him to as being his Secret Santa. That is, until they likely revealed themselves at the end of it all.

"Good day, Garak!" Jadzia sang out, turning to grab a slim, if long box in familiar wrapping from the side of her console before handing it to him.

"Good day to you, Commander," Garak answered. He could feel the eyes of the room burning into him, but he paid them little mind.

In a voice low enough only meant for him to hear, Jadzia relayed, "I heard it's going to snow in H-3 today. You might want to check that out."

His eyebrows rose at the claim. It wasn't the first time that the environmental controls would've gone haywire on the station, but H-3? His quarters were on Level H-3.

With a final nod between them, Garak made for the turbolift to the Habitat Ring. Only when he was out of sight of prying eyes did he slide the top off of this second gift, and his attention immediately went to the message waiting for him, this time in the form of a tiny rolled-up scroll:

> _I would listen to her._
> 
> _This should help keep those handsome neck ridges of yours warm._

Heat rose to his cheeks at the compliment, and his attention shifted to the gift laying in the box: a luxurious scarf in a shade of cool blue, much like that on the socks.

He'd never been one for scarves, normally preferring to stay away from cold temperatures to begin with, but even so he found himself wrapping the garment around his neck and reveling in the feel of it against his throat as he turned the corner to the hallway outside his quarters. What he found genuinely surprised and impressed him.

It was snowing, alright, but nothing like how a usual system malfunction would spew out a flurry of ice. No, it was soft and light and _dazzling_. (And, conveniently, the flooring in that section of the hallway had been replaced with something more slick than the surrounding carpet, something that allowed the snow to melt and drain into small dips near the bulkheads.)

And before it all, a small golden cloth––a pocket square, he noticed upon closer inspection––with a note pinned to it hung from a clear wire from the ceiling.

> _This might come in handy - if not for the snow, then for later._
> 
> _Would you mind fixing the environmental controls? Engineering seems to be all tied up today._

Garak smirked at the choice of words. If the stakes were more dire, he would've surmised that "tied up" had a much more literal meaning.

Thankfully they didn't, but he still had to traverse the slippery deck before him, like an obstacle course. Taking the pocket square in hand, he took one step, then another, and another forward. The controls for this section were on the other side, just beyond his door.

Halfway across, he realized that there was now enough snow to gain some traction under his feet, and he paused, distracted by the sparkle of the precipitation coming down around him. It was cold, much colder than he cared for, but the scarf was helping. He held out a hand, waiting until a snowflake gently settled upon the palm of his hand, its iciness melting into his skin in an instant.

A fascinating sort of beauty, he noted, entranced as more and more flakes landed on him.

When his hand began to feel chilly, Garak continued his trek and patted his hand down with the pocket square once he was safely across. He then pried the door to the environmental controls open, unsure of what to expect, but excited to find another clue.

And there it was, in plain sight. A metallic silver bowtie, tied perfectly around the switch he needed to turn off the snow and holding another small scroll against it.

He slid both the tie and scroll off the handle, then threw the switch back. The snow stopped a moment later, and he unrolled the scroll:

> _Well done, Garak. But I meant what I said about engineering being all tied up._
> 
> _Perhaps you should let Odo know._

Odo. Now this should be interesting. Odo loved a good mystery as much as he did, but if he had to guess, he would say that Odo was _not_ his Secret Santa, given how this note was worded.

Pocketing the cloth and tie into his coat alongside the socks and all the other notes, Garak squared his shoulders and headed down to station security.

* * *

It was odd to admit, but Garak felt giddy as he marched through the parted doors into the security office, scarf still wrapped around his neck, and proudly announced, "Odo! I'd like to report a crime."

"Oh?" Odo challenged, looking over the top of the PADD he was currently reading.

"A kidnapping, in fact. Of the engineering team."

"I see..." the security chief mused, standing up and adjusting his uniform as he came around his console. "In that case, I believe I have no choice other than to arrest you."

_Wait, what?_

Garak took a step back as Odo took one forward. "I believe there's been some mistake, Constable," he chuckled. "I'm here to _report_ a kidnapping, not to admit to committing one."

"I understand," Odo nodded solemnly, taking Garak by the arm and pulling him towards the hall to holding cells. "Come along."

"Wait, no, I don't think you do." Garak was sure this was part of the hunt, but a lingering sense of doubt trickled in, that perhaps this all had been a ploy by an enemy to lock him up. After all, Odo was keeping a straight face, even as he pushed him into a cell and raised its force field. He turned and looked back at him, disbelief rising in his voice. "Odo, please. You've got to believe me. _I_ didn't do anything. You have to let me out."

"I understand," Odo insisted once again. "I'll let you out, if you can answer me one question."

"Of course."

"What's sharp, made of metal, and holds your wrists together?"

"Holds my wri––? Oh! Handcuffs?" Garak answered hopefully.

But to his dismay, Odo simply shook his head and strolled back out to his office, leaving Garak to call out after him for more chances to answer, to no avail.

Once the room had gone silent––it seemed he was the only person being held that afternoon––Garak sat down on his cell's bench, stumped.

If this was his Secret Santa's doing, they were good. The game wasn't as simple anymore. There were a number of people clever enough to pull off such a scheme, given the field. And now he was in a cell, having been clearly tricked. And with a riddle to solve.

The riddle.

Garak directed his attention to that, convinced that that was his ticket out of here.

As he pondered over what the answer could be besides "handcuffs," a piece of paper stuck to the wall besides the cell's entrance caught his eye, and he immediately scrambled up to read it:

> _Use what you have._

"Use what I have?" he questioned aloud.

The gifts! The socks, scarf, pocket square, and bowtie.

But they were all made of fabric, far from being useful for a jailbreak (not that there was much that could get through the cell's force field).

There had to be more to this, another angle.

Maybe it was that common thread of all the gifts being made of fabric, though against Odo's riddle, that didn't hold much stock.

_Oh!_

Garak straightened his posture with a burst of inspiration and called out for Odo to return.

They were accessories. Outfit accessories. And not just for any old winter's day outfit...

"Can I help you, Mr. Garak?" Odo asked as he came back into the room looking nonplussed, hands folded behind his back.

"I have an answer for you," he began, trying to contain his excitement. "It's cufflinks, isn't it?"

A second of silence passed, and then that familiar, and in this case, _reassuring_ grin spread across Odo's face as he lowered the force field separating them and held out a small box that he'd been holding behind his back. This one was different from the others––a black velvet case, unwrapped.

"Yours wasn't the only game I was playing, Garak," Odo shared knowingly as his "prisoner" stepped out of the cell and took the gift.

Garak opened the case, and whatever pleased smile he was wearing fell into a wide-eyed look of wonder. Inside were two golden cufflinks laced with silver, diamond-shaped and with marbled orange jewels adorning their faces.

"They're stunning..." he whispered.

Odo chuckled, leading the way back out to his office. "If I were you, I'd go back to your shop and get ready." When Garak looked back up at him in question, he nodded towards the cufflinks. "After all, it seems like you have everything you need to get dressed now."

* * *

The trip back to his clothier was quicker than he'd ever remembered it being. Everything was building up to something, something he wasn't quite sure of yet, but he was determined to find out.

Garak didn't know if the final clue was in his shop or not, but when he walked through the doors, he knew something was off. Someone had been in there since he left, despite his locking of the entrance.

In the end, he found only one thing amiss: his tuxedo and dress shoes were laid out in the center of his work station. He set all of the gifts he had gathered during his quest beside it and inspected the suit, finding another note pinned to the embroidered neck tag of his jacket.

> _See you in holosuite #1._

Another thrill ran up his neck ridges. The game would soon pay off, and he would get to meet his Secret Santa.

Garak gathered everything and stepped into one of his shop's dressing rooms. He slipped into his tux, enjoying that rush of power and style that the outfit brought, and added the accessories one by one. As he finished fastening the cufflinks and straightened his sleeves in the mirror, he took a steadying breath.

It was time.

* * *

The bar was abuzz with activity when Garak strolled in, nodding in Quark's direction as the latter smiled back at him and shifted his eyes up to the holosuites. Of course the Ferengi knew he'd be coming.

Much like they had in Ops, eyes glossed over him once more, checking out his attire, as he made his way up the spiral stairs to the second level and into the hallway set off from the eating area.

"Holosuite One is currently in use. You may enter," the computer relayed to him.

Garak wasn't sure what to expect from here on out, but nevertheless he stepped through the door and found himself in a dimly lit, yet familiar hallway. There was light peeking out from under another set of doors a few meters down and he headed towards them, bracing himself.

"Hong Kong," he breathed.

He was in Julian's spy game, in his place in Kowloon. The room was still a decorator's nightmare, to be sure, but in spite of that his heart fluttered at the sight of a table covered in a deep red cloth in the center of the room, decorated with flowers and candles and with two place settings prepared, a covered dish at each chair, and the surrounding lights dimmed lower than usual.

Garak stepped forward, almost ready to question if this was real had it not been a hologram. But hologram or not, this arrangement was indeed real, as noted by the wonderful cuisine he could smell from underneath the silver tray cover when he reached the table.

"Looking for me?"

Garak spun around on his heel, his scarf swinging out with the movement, to find Dr. Bashir standing in the doorway, as handsome as ever in his tuxedo, with a bowtie and pocket square that suspiciously matched his, and an expression in his eyes that went beyond anything he'd seen him wear before.

"Doctor! I'm..." Garak wasn't quite sure how to finish his sentence, he'd become flabbergasted over everything.

"Surprised that I'm your Secret Santa?" Julian finished for him, taking a few steps into the room.

"Well...yes! I mean, I know you introduced me to the game, but the odds of you drawing my name seemed so...slim." That, and it was a hope that he had refused to let blossom from day one. With the way the hunt had played out though, he had a sneaking suspicion towards the end that the doctor had at least helped in setting it up. But now, with this...his hope was blossoming into something much larger and there was no way to stop it.

"Well, it seems that we both got lucky then," he joked, his eyes twinkling.

A pause fell over them then, and Garak could've sworn the room was getting hotter as he looked away and shuffled his feet. Thankfully, Julian was able to fill the silence.

"I thought we might do something a little different for lunch today before we go to the party, if you're interested." He gestured to the table behind Garak, before bringing the attention back to himself. "But first, this is for you."

With all the charm he'd become known for, the doctor presented a single flower from behind his back, and Garak's jaw dropped in pure astonishment.

An Edosian orchid. A real Edosian orchid.

The flower's blood-orange petals ignited a wave of memories of his life to Garak's mind. Learning to grow them with his father in the Tarlak Sector, planting them at each of his residences as he traversed Cardassia, and, most notably, using the plant's poisonous qualities when pollinated by the White Star of Night to eliminate Proconsul Merrok on Romulus.

They'd been his speciality as a gardener, despite his home planet's unforgiving climate, and a perennial of his own existence. Until, that is, he'd come to Deep Space 9 and been thrown into exile, never to see them again.

And yet now, its deadly beauty had bloomed once more into his life, stunning him with a desire for the unknown, for mystery.

He didn't care how he'd gotten it, or how he'd known, or how this had all come to be. Not right then. The only thing Garak cared for as he automatically plucked the flower from Julian's hands with a tender, almost disbelieving touch, was to pull the good doctor into a kiss of gratitude. The orchid held fast in his grasp as he snaked his arms around his neck, letting his gratitude melt into a kiss of love, a kiss of mercy from the longing he felt each day.

Garak's eyes stayed closed when they parted. "My dear...Julian..." he finished on a breathless sigh, eyes fluttering open.

Julian leveled him with a half-lidded gaze and a smile that revealed more than words could about his feelings, his hands keeping their hips close together. "I take it you like your gift?" he laughed quietly.

"Mmhmm," Garak hummed. His lips curled into a smirk. "In fact, I should show you how much I love _all_ of your gifts."

"Oh? Well, please, don't let me stand in the way of your appreciation."

Their lips already found each other again by the time Garak mumbled, "You never could." As their bodies moved closer together, Julian's fingers danced along the Cardassian's ridges underneath his scarf, making him moan into their kiss as he pressed into his partner to lower them both onto the couch beneath the window overlooking the city.

The Edosian orchid fell out of reach above Julian's head, safe but not forgotten. Never forgotten.

Their food, meanwhile, stayed warm under their covers but for the time being would go uneaten. And for once, Garak found that he didn't mind missing lunch with the doctor.


End file.
